My Brother's Keeper
by heartofShou
Summary: Hijinks ensue when America and Canada decide to trade places for the day. Pairings listed inside.
1. Chapter 1: A Brilliant Idea

DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Axis Powers Hetalia_, its characters, its plot, etc. This story was made to have fun with characters of this fandom, not support any particular political standing. We're talking about anime here, people.

PAIRINGS: Ones to be aware of are , FrancexEngland, AmericaxJapan, and CanadaxKorea.

NOTE: This is the first Hetalia fic I've ever written. I'm still relatively new to the fandom and this story was a spur of the moment idea, so please feel welcome to point out any OOC-ness, etc. Thank you.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir, as thou art clad- just once-"

"Oho, wouldst thou like it? Then so shall it be. Doff thy rags and don these splendors, lad! It is a brief happiness, but will be not less keen for that. We will have it while we may..."

-The Prince and the Pauper, **Mark Twain**

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* * *

  
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_**Chapter One**_**: A Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea**

"Staring contest! Go!" America slapped down his hand upon the table with great force, his other hand clenched in a tight fist as he and his brother stared each other down, sparks flying from their intense gazes. It was more clear than ever to the other countries- who were all watching the very impromptu staring contest with varying degrees of bewilderment- the great resemblance of the mouth, stubborn dip of the chin, creases of concentration: the two really were identical.

Two sets of blue eyes twitched.

Two accusing index fingers rose up to point at the other.

"You blinked!" both cried at the same time and then scowled. "I did not! You did! Stop copying me!"

THWACK! THWACK!

"Ow..." both brothers whimpered, once more in unison. The pair of blonde heads now lay on the long conference room table, two pairs of arms up to protect their now sore skulls from the further wrath of a scowling Britain.

"Knock it off!" Britain cried angrily, disregarding the fact that the game had already ended due to his intervention. He crossed his arms, still keeping hold of the files he had used to whack the two younger countries over the head with. "That twin thing you guys do is so creepy," he grumbled to himself before noticing all of the other countries were watching them awkwardly. (Except Poland, who was laughing uproariously.) His cheeks flushed. Apparently no matter how old and "independent" your children proclaim to be, they would never fail to embarrass you. Wonderful. Clearing his throat, Britain narrowed his eyes back at the twins. "America," he started, his voice firm and freely-patronizing, "even if this meeting does not interest you, you could still be respectful. And you, Canada," he gave a snort of exasperation, "you really ought to know better." For a moment, he caught eyes with France, who had the audacity to just grin and twirl a rose at him. Was it any wonder these two had turned out the way they did when they had also been brought up with _that_ influence? Disgusted, Britain turned on his heel, clasping hands behind his back. "Well, seems like we've covered enough for today. How about we rejoin tomorrow?" It was a rather rhetorical question, serving as a dismissal the others had been waiting for.

America sighed, neither he nor Canada bother to raise their heads even as the other countries casually got to their feet and left the room in their usual cliques. One pair of blue eyes met another, this time exchanging looks of mutual sympathy.

"He's such a party-pooper," America muttered, sighing again.

Canada gave a small smile, "At least this time he remembered my name."

"Bah!" America harrumphed. "He doesn't get it though!" He whined just a little. "It's not that I'm bored-," then he quickly amended upon getting a certain look from Canada, "Alright, not _just_ because I'm bored. I'm tired."

Normally Canada would try to point out, "Things aren't as bad as they seem," or "Don't worry! It will get better soon!" but what were brother for if not to commiserate with? "At least you got to participate," he sighed, sitting up and stretching. "Most of the time, people act like I'm not here. It makes me feel like I'm invisible or something!"

America declined to comment.

"Oh," Canada blinked, something catching his attention. Intrigued, America too sat up. "Aren't those the Ita-Brothers?"

Lazily, his twin turned to look over his shoulder. True enough, the two he had come to know as North and South Italy (what were their codenames again?) came walking back into the room together, one pulling the other- more nervous- one along by the arm. "There's something different about them right now though," America mused aloud. Rubbing his chin, he continued, "Can't quite put my finger on it..."

A bead of sweat slid down the back of Canada's head. "Um," he put forth tentatively, "might it be because they're dressed so similarly?" Indeed, the two brothers had thrown on the same jacket and fixed their hair so that neither displayed their distinctive curl.

America pursed his lips in thought. "That might be it," he admitted carelessly. Canada just chuckled awkwardly.

The two Ita-Brothers strode up to Germany, who was still painstakingly putting sheet after sheet of paper back into the briefcase. Germany took one look at his visitors and stiffened his shoulders. The two North American brothers felt for him; it was hard enough to watch what on Italy was capable of doing to him, but together with a second, more spiteful one? Chances weren't good that his would end up being something fun. (Secretly, America could sympathize with Romano. Canada already _had_ a brother, thank you very much Cuba!)

"Oi!" Romano yelled despite only being four steps away from the tall blonde. "Weiner-Moron! We have a challenge for you!" He took a proud stance before the bemused Germany, giving a sharp tug to pull Veneziano up alongside him. His younger brother was quivering, giving nervous- yet curious- glances to both Romano and Germany.

"Hm," was Germany's only verbal response, but his furrowed brow revealed his hesitant intrigue.

Romano smirked and gestured to himself and his brother. "All you have to do," he explained slyly, "is discern which of us is Veneziano."

A pause.

'What?' America and Canada thought- unknowingly- together, incredulous. 'But it's obvious! It's so obvious!' As a pair of twins themselves that had constantly been mixed up in their younger days- and sometimes even to this day- without even trying, they were less than impressed with the Ita-Brothers' attempt to look identical.

Germany, however, didn't seem to share their sentiment. Indeed, he looked quite confused, looking at one brother and then the other. Romano continued to smirk and Veneziano just fidgeted, but even these distinctive habits didn't seem to tip Germany off. After a moment, though, he grimaced as an idea came to light. With a sigh, he held out his hands and murmured, "Hug?"

Like an eager puppy unchained, Veneziano launched towards the blonde, embracing him hard enough to almost knock the other man down. "Oh Germany!" he cried, nearly squealing with joy. "I knew you could do it!" One could almost see the many hearts of love springing up from the ecstatic country.

"No fair!" stewed Romano, thoroughly peeved. "No fair! No fair! No fair!"

Canada chuckled fondly, "They're so energetic." They watched as Germany practically dragged himself (and Veneziano, who was still hanging off his neck) out of the room with a yelling Romano trying to follow. _Trying_ because he got interrupted- unleashing a squawk that was pretty comical in itself- by a worried looking Spain.

"Yeah," America answered absently, turning back. His interest had waned and now he was greatly bored. "Silly, really, thinking they could-"

And that's when it hit him.

A stupendous, glorious, _delicious_ idea.

He grinned widely, enjoying the epiphany and his own amazingness.

Canada raised an eyebrow at him- having become _far_ too used to that expression, but America was unfazed. "Canada!" he cried, slapping his hands down on the table yet again. "Canada, that's it!"

"What's it?" his brother tried to ask, but he was yanked up by the arm and hurried out of the room. "Wait! What about Kumo-!"

Kumajiro, the fluffy white polar bear that had been laying at Canada's feet the whole time, continued to snore and simply rolled over to continue his nap.

* * *

"Alfred!" Canada hissed. Even if they _were_ in a locked room, outside the conference room, it was safer to call each other by code names- just in case. Still, other than the rustling of clothes it was hard to hear or see anything through the folding screen- which was sort of the point, he supposed. "Alfred!" Only more rustling. The blonde sighed and looked uncertainly at the bomber jacket in his hands. After finding an empty room with a couple of folding screens and body-length mirror- just how accommodating _was_ the World Conference Center?- America had shoved them in, locked the door, and promptly ordered for them to switch clothes. Canada had immediately wanted to know why, but was pushed behind a screen before he could do so. America, brimming with childish exuberance, insisted he would explain all _later_.

"Matthew!" his twin called, now the one impatient. "Hurry up and get out here!"

Grumbling under his breath in French, Canada finished the exchange by pulling the bomber jacket on. It was a little weird to know that his brother's clothes still fit him so well. (They were a bit loose in some areas like the waist, but all in all a very comfortable fit.) With a sigh of, "Just get it over with," he stepped out from behind the screen.

Had someone entered the room- country or human- they would have been immensely confused, taking more than just one double-take. However, to Canada, it was just his brother with his clothes on. America grinned and beckoned him to come stand beside him before the mirror.

"You know how you've always wanted a chance to participate in these conferences?" Alfred asked rhetorically. "Get to be taken seriously with all the power and authority to back you up?" Canada nodded slightly, still suspicious. "And how _I_ want some off time, a chance to chill out without all that pressure?" Just as it clicked in Canada's head, he stepped in front of the mirror, looking at what it held.

They were identical.

Well, of course, they had _always_ been identical, but it made a different impact this time. America's hands went through his hair, smoothing down the golden locks, twisting the ends, and tucking down his upper cowlick. A tight pinch of some lower strands brought out a familiar, distinctive curl. Canada fingered the same curl in his own hair and following the train of thought, swept back up with its fellow locks and then pricked some bangs up to give it a cowlick look. Their work complete, the lowered their hands and took another look. Yes, now it was perfect.

"Don't you see, Canada?" America breathed softly, placing one hand on the mirror. "We switch places- just for the day- and-"

Canada swiftly interrupted, "It won't work." He bit his lower lip, thinking through all the hundreds of ways this could go wrong. "They'll know. Or they'll find out. I mean, the Ita-brothers failed and-"

"We _can_ do this," America insisted. "And if we get caught," he shrugged, "we'll just say it was a joke. No one will care."

There was something wrong with that logic.

Also, after all these years of insisting he was not- nor ever will be- America, there was something about this that didn't sit well with his political senses. "I don't know," he sighed, still staring at their reflections. "So many things can go wrong, Alfred. You could say the wrong thing or I could and drag our countries into something awful!"

This time his twin turned from the mirror to look at the real him. "I wouldn't do that," America refuted, serious. There was little more precious to Alfred than his country. "And I know you Matthew; you're too smart to jeopardize things like that. I'll be mostly ignored, but I won't say or do anything. I promise."

It was tempting. Very tempting. Conference time was supposedly short tomorrow, lessening the amount of time things could go wrong. The image of him being able to share ideas was also strong. Who knew, but using this chance to practice, he could use new skills to also do so when he went back to being himself.

No more invisible Canada..

"Should I?" he asked, teetering on the edge.

America grinned, "Why not?"

Canada laughed, pressure falling off his shoulders like magic. When he stopped, he looked back at their reflection and saw two grinning blondes looking back at him. Then he faced his brother and said, "I'll see you tomorrow..._Canada._"

The other chuckled, "Yep! See you tomorrow, America."

And like the mischevious imps they were, they left the room, laughing together.

- End

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[Extras]

1) The part where the Ita-brothers test Germany is heavily based off the comic strip "APH: Braindamaging Test" by Hei-Chan on DeviantArt. It was in my head while writing this and so sort of slipped out. So I take no credit for that part at all. The brilliance is all Hei-Chan's.


	2. Chapter 2: The Stage is Set

DISCLAIMER: Refer to first chapter. The only ones I own are the guards. Please do not use without permission. (Don't think anyone would want to, but said so just in case.)

PAIRINGS: Refer to previous chapter for previously stated. Oddly enough I forgot to add in GermanyxItaly. Yeah, that's definitely in.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players;  
They have their exits and their entrances,  
And one man in his time plays many parts,  
His acts being seven ages."

-As You Like It, **William Shakespeare**

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* * *

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_**Chapter Two**_**: The Stage is Set**

In drastic contrast between most other world conference centers where political leaders of all kinds met together, the Conference Center where the countries met had very little in the way of security, for unlike their fragile, human counter-parts, countries were far less vulnerable. They all had attendants- well-trained agents with full trust of the governments that backed them- but these usually stayed in separate rooms, working on miscellaneous projects. Throughout time it had been understood that this place was for the countries to interact freely with one another, free of their usual restraints. As such, there was minimal security and staff, just enough to keep the place running in tip-top condition. Yet even among these people, few knew just who- or what- exactly were responsible for all the chaos within the doors.

Henry McPhaterson was not one of those few.

An American of Irish descent with parents in high places, Henry had become a black sheep in the family with his continual lack of motivation. While other kids in his top-notch private preschool were expressing the various ways they were going to contribute to society (doctors, lawyers, future presidents- the usual), Henry had daydreamed about a life where he had to do nothing at all. His parents had been temporarily placated by his excellent schoolwork, but were flabbergasted when he decided to take this job as a security officer that- as far as they were concerned- was in the middle of nowhere. Working for the government was all well and good, they had said, but couldn't he aim just a little higher. Henry ignored them and brushed off their disappointments. To him, this job was as close to doing nothing as he could get- and with a paycheck to boot. As Guard of the West Gate, all he had to do was keep track of who came and went and generally make sure there was no trouble afoot.

Due to his long hours, Henry took up his favorite hobby: reading. That morning he as reading the first volume of a Japanese comic book a friend of his, Satoshi- who was the Guard of the East- had exchanged with him with him called "Detective Conan". Their friendship had been struck up due to shared hours and upon Henry finding Satoshi fairly fluent in English. (Multi-lingual as he was, true to American style, he was far more comfortable with his native tongue.) A native of Osaka, the way Satoshi spoke reminded Henry of his relatives from Brooklyn. One talk of baseball, movies, and books later and the two were firm friends. The tradition started that the two would exchange reading material to pass the time of their shifts, so when Satoshi handed him some volumes of "Detective Conan", he handed over Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby".

It was not only a pastime, but a little war of cultures between colleagues.

He was in the middle of wondering- with a high amount of skepticism that was bordering on indignant- why the childhood friend was unable to see through the child's disguise, when a nervous voice came to his ears. "Good morning Henry," it greeted. Gray eyes looked up from the comic book pages and then the guard smiled with familiarity.

"Ah, good morning Alfred," he nodded as the blonde stopped before his booth. "How are you?"

The other's grin widened. "Fine, thanks," he answered. "And you?"

"Swell, swell," Henry answered absently, already turning back to his reading. Though he had no idea what role the blonde played in whatever-it-was that went on inside, Alfred was a regular. He always came through this gate, full of cheerfulness and calling Henry "my man". The guard could only suppose that when always dealing with foreign affairs, it was nice to see a fellow countryman. However, Alfred was usually brisk and eager to get on his way so it was odd that after a moment, Henry glanced up to see Alfred still standing before him, an odd look on his face. "Is everything ok, Al?"

"Huh?" Blue eyes blinked once and the grin was back. "Yeah, yeah," he assured, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Just spaced out for a moment." He gestured toward the doors. "I'll just be heading on in then."

Henry furrowed his brow but answered, "Ok." He then watched the other man enter the building. Odd... He shrugged it off and continued to scrutinize the plot-holes before him.

Honestly, how can people not notice what was right before them?

Holy maple syrup, it had worked!

Canada pressed a palm to his chest, hoping to slow down his heart rate. The guard had been his first test, but it had gone so well he had been caught staring at the man in amazement. He would have to be more careful in the future; the other countries would be harder to fool.

* * *

_"Don't worry," America repeated, clambering into his bed. Their hotel room floor was littered with papers they had scribbled different aspects of themselves- like food preferences, music, etc.- that they thought the other should know. Another thing covered was personal relations. One benefit of being so close was that they were fairly aware of the other's political standing, but the personal ties between countries weren't always the same. America was aghast at not only not being able to eat as many hamburgers as he wanted, but that he also had to be nice to Cuba. Canada had been at a lost as to how he was going to act around Britain. Both twins agreed solemnly that France and Britain would be the hardest to fool; each was- admittedly or not- very attached to their respective "son". Now, as they prepared for bed, America must have noticed his twin, sitting on his own bed and frowning at the covers, and tried to erase these second thoughts. "Just smile, be energetic, and have fun."_

_"Yeah, I know what __**you**__ act like," Canada muttered. It came out a little meaner than he meant, but his twin just laughed. So it was that Canada gave a small smile as he turned off the light._

_For a moment, in the darkness, it wasn't the two of them in a 21__st__ century hotel, but one of those nights long ago when they lay side by side in a wood cabin, the sounds of the forest being the sounds of home. How odd to once again hear the sounds of another person in the room. Though he was too sensible to wish for those days of unconditional trust, the child inside remembered what it was like to know- to __**know**__- that just out the door and down the hall would be either France or Britain or sometimes both, ever ready to soothe away nightmares or monsters under the bed. With a snort, he pushed away the nostalgia, even as he patted at his pillow._

_"Canada?" America called, whispering as though he too remembered the old days where they talked in a hush voices until they fell asleep mid-sentence._

_"Hm?" Canada murmured, his heart racing for some reason._

_A breath and then two._

_"Nothing," America said at last, rolling over._

_Canada made a dismissing noise in the back of his throat, pulled the covers up, and waited for sleep to come.

* * *

_

Just relax and have fun. Yeah, he could do that. With a deep, long breath, he slid open the door and entered the conference room.

* * *

Unlike his anxious twin, America's thoughts were solely on trying to yawn and keep the donut in his mouth at the same time. He had slept fitfully; a particularly bizarre dream had been about Britain using something called a Stig to chase him off London Bridge. How odd. He had just finished the last bite and was licking the last bit of frosting off his fingers when he reached the West Gate. "Hello Henry," he called out of habit. His footsteps stopped as only silence answered him. "Hm?" He turned to look behind him. "Ah, reading again, Henry," America chuckled, walking over to lean on the booth. "What do you have there, eh?"

The security guard just flipped to the next page.

America frowned, starting to become unamused. "Henry," he called. Then, louder, "HENRY!"

"Eh?" the red-head finally looked up. "Oh, hello...er..."

"Matthew," America supplied dryly.

Gray eyes lit up dimly with faint recognition. "Ah, right," Henry laughed awkwardly. "How you doin' Martin?"

"Matthew!" the blonde hissed.

"Right, right," Henry acknowledged, mid-yawn. "Hm...Your brother has already gone inside, and some of the others have shown up as well."

America frowned, thought for a moment, and then murmured grudgingly, "Thanks." Another small pause and then he turned and walked inside.

Henry watched, curious. "What is with the two of them?" he wondered aloud. The security guard sent a silent wish that whatever it was was not contagious, then looked down at the graphic novel in his hands. The Japanese sure expected their audiences to buy such far-fetched scenarios. Cracking a smile, he closed the book and then reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone.

Back in the building, America nearly ran into a wall twice, but didn't care. His mind was full of self praise. He was a genius! There was no doubt that he and Canada could pull this off, and that by the end of the day, the other countries would be non-the-wiser. With great savoring of the moment, he reached into a pocket and pulled out his radio complete with headset. Inserting a bud into each ear, he strode into the conference room without looking around, too busy fiddling with the dial.

Perhaps he could catch a Dodger game.

* * *

_"Canada?" he called into the dark. He had done so without really thinking about it. Yet the dark and the quiet had brought forth a memory so strong that he had taken back by the strength of it. He didn't want to be the only one who remembered._

_There was a sleepy, "Hm?"_

_America paused. There had been a time when he told his brother everything and together with this deep bond that they had managed to keep through all these years, he should be more than comfortable to discuss this... this whatever it was that persisted in plaguing him! The very thought made his stomach turn. Maybe now was not the time. "Nothing," he murmured and rolled over._

_That night, his dreams would be filled with faces. One was blurred as it streaked by a trail of roses fluttering behind and another guffawing as something chased after him, making him frown and kick in his sleep. Then another, the most familiar, with a young laugh._

_And the last- serene and thoughtful- of a person waiting patiently beneath a tree he could not approach. This one eased his heart and made him smile._

- End

* * *

[Extras]

**Detective Conan**- A detective manga created by Gosho Aoyama in 1994 about a teenage detective that must combat an evil crime organization while trapped in the body of a seven-year-old boy. It is immensely popular in japan to the point that the main character, Conan, appears on safety signs, telephone cards, and even tea cakes! It has been adapted into an anime; it and the manga are still in progress. So far there has been 65 manga volumes, 546 episodes, 13 full-length movies, 9 OVAs, and numerous specials. In America, it was released under the name "Case Closed". (And yes, that childhood friend _still_ hasn't caught on...)

**Osaka = Brooklyn?**- This is more of a personal observation of mine. If you've watched anime at all, you may have noticed the usage of what is called an Kansai dialect. It is often likened to the dialects here in America, usually like a Southern accent. However, in one of the episodes of Detective Conan, they have one of the Osaka characters (Hattori Heiji, if anyone cares) speak a few lines in English. Now, he was really, _really_ good, but one thing I noticed was that his accent was still noticeable. However, it sounded a lot like how a Brooklyn accent sounded. Thus this comparison. I at first thought of giving Satoshi a "standard" accent, but why not try something different?

**The Great Gatsby**- Written by F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1925, it is considered to be "the Great American Novel". It has also been ranked second on a list of 100 Best Novels of the 20th Century. Nick Carraway, the narrator, tells the story of Jay Gatsby, who harbors deep, lingering feelings for an old flame, Daisy, and has gone to great lengths to win her back. In a setting of materialism and cynicism, the novel brings a deeper look into life during America's Roaring 20s.

**The Stig**- A British television icon from the car enthusiast show "Top Gear"; he is infamous for his stunts and never-revealed identity.

[This information has been mostly provided from my own head with a few references to Wikipedia.]


	3. Chapter 3: The Other Players

DISCLAIMER: Refer to first chapter. The only ones I own are the guards. Please do not use without permission. (Don't think anyone would want to, but said so just in case.)

CHARACTERS: Japan, Korea, China, Britain, Sealand, Finland, Austria, Germany, Poland, Lithuania, Spain, and France.

NOTE: Sorry about the late chapter. (Ashamed.) I'm trying really hard to provide a chapter once per month and in my defense, I tried _really_ hard to upload this on October 31st but sadly did not make it. So November 1st will have to work. No fear though. This still counts as October's chapter so you should be another chapter up this month. Thanks for everyone's patience.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"But some emotions don't make a lot of noise.

It's hard to hear pride.

Caring is real faint- like a heartbeat.

And pure love- why, some days it's so quiet, you don't even know it's there."

-**Erma Bombeck**

_**

* * *

Chapter Three**_**: The Other Players**

Plz brng nxt vlm. =]

Itoh Satoshi was mostly annoyed as he looked down at his newly opened text message, but he supposed he should have known better. He had tried to tell the American to borrow more than one volume at a time, explaining that manga reads a lot faster than regular novels, but McPhaterson had not wanted to be stuck with a heavy load to carry if he had not liked the story. It was now unfortunate that their shifts were starting and Satoshi was not about to abandon his post- no matter how uneventful it usually was. With a sigh, the long-suffering Japanese man texted back a reply- 52837- and turned back to his own reading material.

_-he stretched out his arms out to the dark water-_

"Good morning, Itoh-san," a soft, male voice murmured.

Slightly jolted, Satoshi looked up to see a regular attendee of whatever-it-was that was hosted inside the building. "Ah, Honda-han," he acknowledged with a slight bow, "good morning."

After leaving his native Osaka, Satoshi had traveled to seventeen other countries before settling at his quiet job at the Conference Center. So he knew well the comfort it was to meet another native even in this foreign background. They knew very little about each other, but judged the other liked him well enough and thus liked the other in return. Such a comfortable relationship.

Kiku glanced down at the book in the guard's hands. "_Great Gatsby_," he read aloud before looking the other man in the eye. "You did another exchange with McPhaterson-san?"

"Ah, yes," Satoshi looked at the book in sudden remembrance, black eyes quickly skimming the pages- _could have sworn he was trembling_- before closing it. "May I help you with something?"

The other man opened his mouth, but whatever his response was to be, it was cut off by a loud, incoming screech.

"J~A~P~A~N!"

Kiku had only a split second to freeze in horror, open his eyes wide with recognition, and drop his mouth in an instinctive call for help before he was suddenly tackled to the ground. The representative from Japan had been- as Satoshi's teenage sister would say- "glomped". Sitting atop him now was a young man with black hair, sleeves too long for his thin arms, and a wide grin.

Korea, South Korea.

"Im Yong Soo!" Kiku huffed, gasping for breath as he tried to wiggle out from under the young man's weight. "Get off!"

This was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence, and Satoshi, having long since garnered the necessary experience, kept clear away. His phone vibrated in his pocket at the same time the young Korean grumbled in sloppy Japanese (or so it sounded to the guard), "Is that any way to greet your lord and master in the morning?" Deciding he did not want to hear the rest of this conversation- however it went- the guard opened his phone to check the new message.

Now?

"Please, just get off of me-"

"What's your codename? Toyota?"

"Oh... my vital regions..."

"You know," a new voice spoke up, young, male, and lilting, "children should play nicer in the mornings."

Satoshi looked up to see a new character had entered the scene, this time the Chinese representative. The taller man looked down at his two colleagues in confusion. "So energetic," he said at last with a sigh, sounding strangely like an old man. "I'm so jealous."

"Hey grandpa," Im Yong Soo spoke up with a deep frown, "you should be _bowing_ to your superior!"

"Oh no, not this again..."

Satoshi turned back to his phone with a frown of his own and typed a response: 66.

A few moments later brought another reply, that of a sad face that, despite its grammatical symbol make-up, still managed to give a kicked puppy impression.

The slap of two hands grasping desperately onto his booth startled him into looking up. It was Honda-han, having saved himself from Im Yong Song's grip somehow and with a new frazzled look, clutched to the desk and looked up at Satoshi beseechingly. "Itoh-san," he tried to speak in his usual calm tone despite still breathing hard from his struggles, "do... do you happen to know if Jones-san has arrived yet?"

"Ah, the American?" Satoshi restated for clarification, getting a small nod in reply. "Hmm..." He paused in thought, not only thinking up an answer, bt to also ponder how strange it was for the Japanese man to inquire about another official. IN the background, Wang Yao was now either dragging or running away from- it was hard to tell- Im Yong Soo. "I'm afraid he doesn't enter this way." At seeing the start of a disappointed frown, he quickly added, "But I can find out for you." Politely dismissing Honda's murmurings that he shouldn't o through the trouble, he turned back to his phone and texted a new message:

Is Jones here yet?

The reply:

Who?

Satoshi pushed the buttons a little harder as he wrote back:

Jones! The American!

Henry wrote back:

Who?

A nerve in Satoshi's forehead pulsed before he went on to read:

Just kidding.

(Damn American.)

Yeah, Al was here a few minutes ago. Was acting kinda strange tho~

The Guard of the East Gate promptly closed the phone before reading the rest. Probably just more ramblings. "Yes," he relayed to Honda, "he is here. Would you like me to intercom him for you?"

"No!" Kiku refused quickly, having straightened out his hair and clothes so he no longer looked so haggled. "Thank you very much, but that is not necessary." With a quick bow, he followed Wang Yao and Im Yong Soo into the building.

"Hmm," Satoshi watched him before turning back to his now reopened book. Whatever was going on was none of his business. Now, where was he?

_...I was alone again in the unquiet darkness._

The insistent vibrating coming from his pocket went ignored.

* * *

"Hey stupid! Wait up!" Sealand called obnoxiously, lengthening his strides as far as his short legs could reach in order to keep up with a hurrying Britain.

The older nation sighed, not bothering to look back. "Go home, Sealand," he bade for the umpteenth time. When would the would-be country learn?

"You're not the boss of me!" Sealand declared rebelliously.

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Curious despite himself, Britain turned to see what was causing the noise. Sealand also stopped and blinked up at him. In his right hand was a sea green cube of plastic with a thin handle of white. "What's that?" Britain asked.

A lunchbox? An honest-to-goodness lunchbox?

Sealand held up the container, beaming with happiness. "Mama made me lunch!" he chirped by way of explanation.

"Hm," Britain grunted before continuing on his way. How silly. Wouldn't it be more prudent to keep the brat at home? Why encourage this farce?

_

* * *

"But I like it when you cook, Britain," the little blonde colony protested, his feet swinging under the table with that irrepressible energy. The child scooped some more food up with a fork before shoveling it into his mouth. America more inhaled food than ate it. Normally Britain would be skeptical of how anyone could taste it at that speed, but the boy was always so sincere in his praise. The colony then tried to speak around the chewed glob in his mouth and Britain thought it meant, "It tastes so good!"_

_"America," the country sighed with all the fondness, tolerance, and exasperation that only a parent could express at one time. He leaned across the simple wood table, ever-armed with a napkin. "Look at you! I can appreciate the sentiment __after__ you swallow, you know."_

* * *

The ghostly echoes of childish laughter still rang in Britain's ears even as he shook his head to clear it. What was wrong with him? It wasn't even July and he was getting this nostalgic? Stop it! He was brought forth from these thoughts by Sealand letting out a whistle. He must have slowed his pace while in thought because when eh glanced down, Sealand was strolling along by his side.

The small (would be) country paid him as little mind as ever. "Looks like a fuss at the gate," he commented. Britain looked ahead to see.

Sure enough, there was a small gathering of countries in front of the North Gate. Britain furrowed his brow. What was going on? Closer now, he could identify the participants. "Spa-" he started to call before catching himself, close as he was to Conference Center, there could still be a citizen around, "Antonio!"

The brunette flinched at the sound of his voice (old habits die hard) before turning around. He calmed and brightened a bit at the sight of Sealand, who waved a hello. "_Buenos_ _días_," Spain greeted in his native tongue before switching over to the type of communication all countries can understand. "It seems we are off to a lively start, no?"

"It's always _too_ lively here," was Britain's sarcastic reply. He took in the scene with an exasperated gaze while Sealand stood on his tippy-toes in an effort to see better. Yes, there was Poland and Lithuania, with the blonde showing open amounts of amusement and the brunette politely trying to hide his mirth. An aggravated Austria was standing beside a much aggrieved Germany, the two of them talking to a young man Britain did not recognize. He knew, with that odd third sense that all countries seemed to have, that this was not one of their own, but an ordinary citizen. The brunette was dressed in the garb customary for the guards, but-

"_Please_," the citizen insisted, clutching at a clipboard. "I just need your last name."

"We want in!" Poland taunted, purposely irritating the situation. "We want in!" He blatantly ignored Lithuania's attempts to quiet him. The citizen just fidgeted, sweating under the pressure.

Apparently this argument had been going on for some time because Germany no longer had the patience to argue. Luckily (?), Austria was there to carry on the fight.

"And _we_ have told you," the brunette retorted, obviously reiterating himself, "that such is confidential information and thus none of your business! So let us in!"

The citizen fixed Austria with a suspicious look, "And what's _your_ name?"

"Roderich," the country supplied smoothly. He gave a snort, "And that's all you need from me." Only Britain and Spain heard him mutter," Just wait until I tell this to Berwald. He should be aware of how his people behave."

"But it _is_ my business to know," the citizen insisted, his cap almost bobbing off his head from the exaggerated motions. "I can't guarantee your safety if you don't let me do my job!"

"And what _is_ your job?" Britain countered, stepping forward.

The young man was taken aback, "Well, I-"

"Because you aren't a guard," Britain cut in. He gestured to the uniform. "All the guards wear a special emblem depending n north, south, east, or west. You, however," he continued with a slight scoff and skeptical arch of a thick eyebrow, "are wearing none of those. How do you explain that?"

The so-called guard did not have the nerve to do anything but flush with shame. He was spared having to defend himself with the arrival of someone new.

"What's this?" the man injected smoothly, adjusting his cap. He quickly scanned the small audience and smiled good-naturedly. "I leave for a couple minutes and you've got excitement building up already, Stone."

"I'm sorry, Herrn Eberbach," the younger citizen blurted. "But I ran into some problems. He wouldn't-"

"Herr Ludwig," Eberbach greeted in German, "_guten morgen_. Sorry about the hold up."

"Finally!" Poland cheered. "The _real_ guard!"

Jon Eberbach was half-Egyptian, half-German from Munich. He had been Guard of the North Gate for over ten years now so that, unlike most of his coworkers, he was more immune to the countries' antics. Germany allowed himself to relax, the effect of having one of his own nearby.

"_Guten morgen_," Germany replied. He glanced at the dour looking "impostor". "Who is this?"

Jon chuckled. "This is Levon Stone," he explained, "a new recruit from Sweden. He might help here at the gates so I've been showing him the ropes. Sorry if there was any trouble."

"Quite alright," Germany nodded imperviously, resuming his usual commanding air that seemed stand-offish to most other countries. He turned to once more face Levon. "Earnest effort on work is to be admired. Keep up the good work."

Levon nodded slowly, his expression giving away that the was unsure if he was being mocked or not.

Austria rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he and the others were waved through. A little piece of Britain once more became aggravated at the sight of Sealand skilfully darting in behind Poland and Lithuania, who paid him no mind. Jon pointed him out to Levon, who looked confused as to why a boy that looked no older than twelve was allowed in. Britain sometimes wondered how they react if they knew that all those that entered here were far, far older than they appeared. But such were dangerous thoughts and he let them drop.

Spain spoke up, startling him, "Shall we go in, Britain?" The brunette had kindly waited behind with him. Before Britain had a chance to respond though, the wind was suddenly knocked out of him.

France, apparently, had decided to arrive.

Leaping from behind he had grabbed hold of both Spain and England, wrapping his arms around both their shoulders companionably. "_Bonjour!_" he greeted in French before switching over to a language they could all understand. "Looks like I'm not late yet. Good timing, if I do say so myself."

Taken by surprise, it took a moment for Britain to respond.

"Ah, Francis, _buenos d_-"

"GET OFF OF ME!" Britain shrieked, flinging off France's arm and taking several steps away. This reaction startled everyone. As rowdy as France and Britain could get, this response was a bit extreme for such little provocation. Spain looked between the two blondes but saw that France was as bewildered as he.

Britain's entire posture was stuff. "Kindly do not take such liberties with my person," he growled coldly. Then with a flush of shame and embarrassment, he turned on his heel and headed inside.

"Arthur!" Spain called after him, but was given no response. He looked back at France. "What was that about?"

By this time confusion had ebbed into hurt, a hurt that the blonde country was trying to pass of as annoyance. "Pfft," he snorted. "How should I know? He was more mood swings than a woman!" with a huff, he headed inside, deaf to Spain's further inquires.

"Herr Fernandez!" Jon called. "Is everything alright?"

Spain glanced at him uncertainly. The he nodded his head and straightened his shoulders before hurrying inside himself. This was a matter between countries and civilians had no place in it.

"Odd bunch," Levon commented as the two guards were left alone.

"Hm," murmured Jon. He was highly tempted to say a line like, "You ain't seen nothin' yet," but decided not to. The young man would see for himself soon enough.

"Should we be worried though?" Levon continued, taking a seat beside Jon. "What if they get into trouble inside?"

"We do not keep watch inside, but outside," Jon smiled as he answered. "Do not worry about them. It will all work out."

Levon raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Do you really think so?"

"Hmm," Jon murmured, leaning back in his chair and shifted his cap down to cover his eyes. "Probably."

Anything was possible in a day at the World Conference Center.

- End

* * *

[Extras]

**-he stretched out his arms out to the dark water-:** Taken from the end of the first chapter of The Great Gatsby. The full part reads: _But I didn't call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness._

**Honda-han**: No, that is not a typo. Kansai dialect (what is used in Osaka) uses -han as a substitute of sorts for -san. I was unsure of either -san or -sama would be used in this case, but I wanted to use -han to just use it. Ha ha!

**McPhaterson-san**: Most likely there would be a different pronunciation for this- kinda hard to look at, no?- but for the sake of not confusing anyone, since I _am_ writing this in English, whenever someone else talks in another language (as presumably Japan and Satoshi are), then it is as if you are reading the English translation of such.

**Im Yong Soo**: I know next to nothing about Korean names. I assume that they follow the same order as Japanese as in family names first followed by given names. But when I'm given a three piece name, which one is the given and which is the family? (Is confused.) So just to be safe, I just continued to use his full name.

**Germany's last name**: Germany has no last name. Apparently, the creator did this on purpose because he wished to use the fact in a future storyline. However, the idea of using human names was dropped so we never got that storyline. I've seen some people use Prussia's last name (which makes sense since they are supposed to be brothers), but I like to think he doesn't have one because his "true" name is that from when he was Holy Roman Empire. Just a personal theory.

**Berwald**: Sweden's codename.

**Herr vs Herrn**: These are not misspellings. They are different versions of the title "mister". "Herr" is German. "Herrn" is Swedish.

**Eberbach**: Kudos to you if you can tell me what manga (or even which character) I got this name from.

_

* * *

Special Dates_:

_For October 12th- best birthday wishes to my best friend, Kat, who has been my supporter from day one. May you continue to enjoy the story._

_For October 24__th__- International Axis Powers Hetalia Day, when this chapter was supposed to have originally been posted._

_For October 26__th__- best birthday wishes for my brother, who has provided more inspiration for the relationship between Canada and America than anyone could know. We are not twins, but he is still very much an important part of who I am._

_For October 31st- Happy Halloween to you all. _


	4. Chapter 4: Call to Order

Disclaimer: APH still does not belong to me. Heh, if someone _were_ to have stolen away rights, they would have "conquered" the world…. Ok, fine, _I_ thought it was funny!

Pairings: Nothing new.

Note: Apparently, I'm a liar. Sorry for not updating sooner. I try my best, but sometimes that's how things work out. I'm still very much working on this and I hope people will be patient with me.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"You trade in your reality for a role.

You trade in your sense for an act.

You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask."

-Jim Morrison

_**

* * *

Chapter Four:**_** Call to Order**

Little by little, the countries trickled into the conference room. In the center was a long oval table that had been there, in one form or other, since time before memory. The room itself, however, had gone through many changes since its ancient use. Electric lights, a computer system at the front, and expansion reconstruction were just a few of the changes. Also, over the years, more and more chairs had been added to the rim of the table- which never seemed to run out of room- while some were retired, most likely never to be used again.

When Canada had entered the room, the countries had been in small groups, not quite in their seats yet. Not yet feeling brave enough to instigate a conversation under his new disguise, Canada headed to his seat. He had just reached out to grab his chair when he caught himself. Blue eyes glanced up to see if anyone had caught him and saw a few countries looking at him curiously. He smiled politely at Egypt and Turkey, who had stopped in mid-conversation, before casually moving over to his right to sit in America's place. A few more countries turned to look at him, not really pausing in their conversations. A shiver went up his spine. People were finally looking at him, but it seemed like he was doing something wrong. What? All he had done was come in quietly and sit down-

Canada could have slapped himself silly. Of course! When was the last time America had ever done anything _quietly_? If it had been a normal day, he too would have been worried if his brother had come in without saying a word. He would have to work fast in order to cover for this blunder.

Stretching up his arms, he yawned loudly. Then he rubbed at his eyes and blinked around, pretending to be sleepy but also being highly alert for something that could help him. Just then Veneziano came walking in. Pushing down the rush of distaste, Canada's face cracked into a smile as he gave a hard slap across the Italian's back. He gave a slight wince as the brunette nearly fell over. He did not have his brother's super strength, but it was easy to forget the extent of his own muscle power. Instead of apologizing though he forced himself to chirp, "Good morning, Italy!"

The younger Ita brother straightened, looking bewildered. For a moment he looked around as though unsure as to what had hit him. The air seemed to tighten as Canada started to think that would just be overlooked. Then Veneziano caught sight of him. The brunette's mouth widened into a warm smile that the other country always gave so easily. "_Buon giorno_, America!" he cheered back, waving an arm for emphasis though they were only a few feet apart. Romano came walking by, grumbling, and pulled Veneziano away by the arm.

Feeling better, Canada's ears caught the sound of someone singing. "_I saw her today at the reception_," came America's voice and sure enough his twin came walking through the door, "_A glass of wine in her hand… And I knew she was gonna meet her connection…_" Dangling from his ears was evidence of earbuds and in his right hand was the rectangular frame of a radio. _"At her feet was her footloose man…"_ No one really seemed to notice him enter or give him a second look as he easily made his way over to sit on Canada's left. He practically fell back into the seat, never minding the state of his suit. "_No, you can't always_- ow!" he yelped, glaring at Canada, who just frowned back, not denying the silent accusation. As far as he was concerned, America deserved that swift kick to the shin. Did the man not have an anxious bone in his body?

Rubbing his now sore leg, America wondered what Canada's problem was. It wasn't like he had walked in singing "Yankee Doodle". He wasn't stupid, after all. Still grumbling to himself, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.

Canada was slightly annoyed as he watched his brother fall asleep in the middle of the conference room. He didn't disturb him though. A sleeping America was slightly less likely to cause damage than an awake one. Instead he focused on Lithuania, who had just entered with Poland. The friendship that had built up between his brother and the brunette had been surprising- like any other sibling, he sometimes found it hard to believe that anyone could _genuinely_ like his brother- and it would now prove to be the first real test to their deception. "Good morning," he smiled as the other drew near. He couldn't quite bring himself to hit someone else quite yet.

Brown eyes glanced at him before the country smile warmly. "_Labas rytas_, America," he greeted. Poland peeked out behind him. "Does your head feel better?"

It took a moment for Canada to remember that last the countries had seen of them, he and his brother had been recovering from England hitting them over the head. He chuckled sheepishly, waving his hand carelessly, and answered, "Is nothing! Nothing!" '_Nothing a little healthcare can't fix,'_ he thought to himself smugly.

"Good," Lithuania nodded back before moving on. He didn't even glance at the real America sleeping lightly, but continued his conversation with Poland. For a moment, Canada watched them go with a somber look. There was something… He had no word for the feeling one gets at realizing that even their close friends would be unable to see through this ruse. It made him pensive for awhile before he shook it off. No use worrying about it, besides now was not the time to get lost in his thoughts.

By the time the rest of the stragglers- including a fuming Austria who made his way to a confused Sweden and a tired Germany who turned pale at the prospect of sitting between two Italy brothers- had come in, Canada had started nibbling at a hamburger. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed them, but the thought of just how many he would be expected to eat in one day rather intimidated his appetite. Last to come in was England, followed by France, and then Spain, who closed the door behind him. The room echoed with the hum of many conversations going on at once. Canada swallowed and then called, "Good morning, England!" as the island nation walked past.

The other blonde just growled, "Belt up," before stalking off to his seat.

His son blinked, taken aback.

It was no new thing for England to snap at America, but in this case, Canada hadn't even had a chance to try and annoy him yet. Short-tempered as he was, England usually tried to show more decorum than that. He looked to his other parent nation, who was scowling heatedly at England's back. Canada had to ask, "What's wrong with him?"

Usually he was either ignored by France or cooed over. So it surprised him to see France just give him an annoyed look. "Can't you mind your own business?" the older nation retorted, smacking Canada over the head. It didn't really hurt, but he yelped anyway out of bewilderment. "Stop sticking your nose in everywhere!" Then France went off to his seat, which was unfortunately near England's. Canada rubbed his head, bewildered. What had just happened here? Why was England so mad? How come France didn't spill the beans like he loved to do with England's affairs? And why was _he_ the one getting snapped at and hit? What had he done? He looked over to his brother for consolation, only to see his twin still napped quietly, his head lolling onto his shoulder. 'Oblivious as ever,' Canada sighed to himself before rolling his eyes. 'We've already switched places and I'm _still_ envious of him! Argh!'

Egypt stood and cleared his throat, "If I may begin…"

The door creaked open slowly, the sound sending chills down several countries' spines. Heads swiveled around to see who it was. The answer just scared them further. Russia strode into the room, not at all in a rush, with his placid smile in place. Walking behind him, sullen and glaring daggers, was Prussia. No one even breathed as the two made their way in.

"Sorry for being late everyone," the taller country apologized with his child-like voice. "I was surprised to see the door closed on me. An accident, I'm sure."

Prussia snorted, "Yeah, sure. 'Accident'. Whatever makes you happy, Snow Boy." He couldn't stop himself from running into Russia's back as the taller country suddenly stopped. No one said a word as Russia slowly turned around.

"My, my," hummed Russia, staring down into Prussia's proud eyes. "There seems to be some mistake. _You're_ not a country."

Prussia's hands tightened into fists. "What are you talking about?" he snarled. "You _told_ me to follow you in here."

Russia just smiled back. "Yes, you've been an excellent little watchdog," he belittled. The he made shooing motions with his hands. "Now go outside with the rest of the guards."

For a moment Prussia looked ready to commit murder. Then, with more dignity than Russia's "request" deserved, he turned on his heel and exited the room that before had been his by birthright. Canada watched him go with deep regret. This time switching with his brother had done little good for he knew America could barely remember who Prussia was let alone want to stand up for him.

Satisfied, Russia strode over to his chair- only to sit on America's lap instead.

The blonde's eyes flew open in surprise. His gasp went unnoticed by all but Canada, who was watching with wide eyes and open mouth. It took a moment for America to realize what was going on while Russia seemed not to notice that his seat was squirming beneath him. Surprise, however, quickly turned into outrage. America placed his hands flat against Russia's back and pushed forward, heedless of his great strength. "Get off!" he cried. The great force ended up catapulting Russia forward and smashing his face into the woodwork of the table. The meeting, which had tried to begin, was again halted as people turned to take in this new disturbance.

Canada couldn't breathe he was so anxious. Their cover was blown for sure now! Everyone would kill them! And whatever was left would be eaten up by Russia!

His twin, on the other hand, only looked satisfied. How dare someone sit on him! He readjusted his earbuds while keeping a careful eye on Russia, making sure he didn't try the same thing again.

The silver-haired nation peeled himself off the surface of the table. An imprint of his face was left grooved into the wood. A little blood oozed its way down his forehead, but unlike a normal human, Russia only seemed slightly dazed from the impact. "Brother," Belarus finally spoke up, full of concern, "are you alright?"

"What happened?" Estonia asked, curious despite himself.

"Hmm," Russia wiped away the blood. Then, with his usual smile, he answered, "I guess I tripped."

To Canada's supreme surprise, everyone relaxed. Some even chuckled. No one seemed perplexed at having seen America- as Canada- shove Russia off him.

Belarus's cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled eerily. "Oh Brother," she cooed.

Someone- Canada thought it was Turkey- jeered, "Was it _your_ foot that did it, America?"

And all eyes turned to Canada.

Without really thinking, Canada flashed a smile and gave a thumbs up. "You'd never see me coming!" he chirped. "Like a foot ninja!"

Most laughed, but some, like Cuba, just frowned disapprovingly. For now, though, Canada ignored them.

He had just made his first joke!

America watched his twin smugly. He just knew this would be a good idea! His self-congratulations were interrupted by a slight tap on his foot. He ducked his head and peered under the table. An Asian country froze, caught red-handed.

It was not Japan- America knew that immediately. However, that was as far as he got before he had to think about it. It was not his foster brother, Hong Kong. (Seychelles and Canada had once ganged up on him one day and forced him to be able to identify their brother at need.) So, China? The Asian country began to sweat under America's silent scrutiny.

"Sorry Canada," he whispered. Then he pointed at a spot by America's foot. "I just dropped something."

The blonde looked to see what looked like a white egg with a tutu by his shoe. He glanced up to check on his surroundings. Egypt had continued with his presentation about tourism while the other countries listened with varying degrees of interest. Even Canada was heedless of what his twin was doing. America's stomach did a flip-flop. As much as he loved attention it was nice to be able to do something other than pay strict attention to what was going on. Had he done this as himself, he would have been heavily lectured to later. Wiggling out of his seat, he crouched on the ground next to the country that he was relatively sure was _not_ China.

How different the world looked under here! While people may put on airs above, below it really showed who was _really_ paying attention. Some just fidgeted while others rubbed at an itch. Others, however, put their privacy to better use. For example, two he recognized to be Spain and the older Ita brother were getting cozy in a game of footsie. He stifled a giggle and looked over to where his parent nations sat side by side. It would not have been the least bit surprising to see France trying to tease England into the same kind of podia-flirting, but instead found that each had their feet firmly on the ground. "Hmm," America hummed vaguely before finally turning to face Not-Japan Not-China. They were nearly nose to nose and the proximity allowed America to notice that the other's cheeks were strangely flushed. It _was_ sort of stuffy under here. The blonde reached back by his foot and brought forth the weird egg. "Is this what you wanted?" he inquired.

The smaller country grinned. "Thank you Canada!" he chirped, cupping his palms. "Korea-" Oh right! Korea! _That's_ who it was- "Korea would be very sad to lose Eggie."

America glanced at the odd toy, which was forever wearing a wide, plastic smile. "No problem, Korea," he shrugged and then gently plopped into the awaiting hands, their fingers brushing as he did so. Korea's cheeks flamed, but then the color faded so fast he looked pale. The Asian looked at his hands confused. Stillness dragged on until America asked, "Is it broken?"

"Eh?" Korea blinked at him before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "No, no. Is fine. Fine, fine, fine," he sang, twirling the egg around.

"Korea!" a voice hissed. Both boys flinched- an old habit from childhood mischief days- before turning to see Taiwan glaring at them. No, not _them_, America realized. Not once did she even so much as glance at him. "Get over here!" she beckoned to her brother nation.

Korea gave a long roll of the eyes. "Right," he answered and then, giving one last smile of thanks, he scuttled back over to his seat.

A little more awkwardly, America maneuvered his long limbs to climb back into his chair. Not one bored eye strayed from Egypt's presentation to query as to what he was doing. As much as America loved attention, he found this lack of it liberating.

And he _loved_ liberation.

Content, America readjusted his walkman radio and allowed the music to drown out the world- literally speaking. However, his self-indulgence also blotted out small details that would later become important. "_You can't always get what you want_," the music played, hiding the odd gleam in Russia's eyes, "_but if you try sometimes_," the way Korea glanced at his hand with a furrowed brow, "_you might find_," the way England and Japan gave similar looks to equally oblivious blondes, "_you get what you need!_"

- End

* * *

[Extras]

**Seating Order**- I wasn't really sure how seating arrangements work in this kind of thing, but I set this up so that people sat according to their geographic location. Thus why America and Canada's seats would be right next to each other's.

_**Buon giorno**_ & _**Labas rytas**_**- **I have some experience with German and Spanish, but not so much with other languages. For what I don't know, I use Google Translator so if something comes out wrong, I apologize. I have no real way of double-checking myself on this.

"**Can't Always Get What You Want"**- The song America is singing is "Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones, which is actually an English rock band. It was once credited as being the 100th greatest song in a list of 400 in 2004.

"**Yankee Doodle"**- An American folk song and apparently state anthem of Connecticut, as Wikipedia informs me. Children learn in it in school, but all we really remember is the first refrain.

**Canada's Healthcare**- That's about as political as my jokes are going to get. Also, I've discovered that Americans have garnered a reputation for "walking off" their sores and ailments. What an odd stereotype…

**Belt Up- **So I've StumpledUpon this wonderful website called The Best of British: The American's Guide to Speaking British. It was assembled by Dr. Effingpot after moving to America in order to explain some of the slang. Some of it might be outdated, but it's pretty useful. The two options I got for "Shut up" were "Belt up" and "Put a sock in it!" I thought the first looked more foreign and thus decided to use it.

**Prussia-** No one seems to know what to do with this guy. He's no longer a country, but he's just too interesting a character to toss out! So I decided to go with what I saw in one profile, where it is said that he lives at Russia's house now and does odd-jobs for him. Odd-jobs…?

**Eggie**- Go to the iloveegg website and listen to the Egg Song. It will explain everything.

**{****beta's note: **a correction from chapter 2 I keep forgetting to fix, While the guard Satoshi Ito's accent _is _a Kansai dialect, it is more accurate to call it Osaka-ben as his dialect is specifically from Osaka and Osaka-ben is rather unique. }

_

* * *

Kudos to Anonymouse #270! _

_You got the "From Eroica With Love" reference from last chapter and your review made me laugh._


	5. Chapter 5: Diversions

Disclaimer: Still do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves.."

-Goethe

_**

* * *

Chapter Five:**_** Diversions**

The rest of the meeting flew by in a series of victories for Canada. Though it was not his turn to speak today, he found his opinion being asked for again and again. He was careful to answer only when he was sure and when his knowledge of his brother's internal affairs failed him- which was less often than he would have thought- he put-off answering. This was well and good until he found that he couldn't even think aloud- a habit he had unfortunately developed due to lack of people speaking directly to him- without people picking up on it. Those private musings would then be broadcasted to others to varying effects. Once or twice someone seemed offended, but if asked, Canada wouldn't be able to explain how.

It was a bit scary, though, just how well he could step into his brother's shoes. Nothing even seemed out of the ordinary! England belittled everything he said while France, in turn, belittled everything English. Japan, on the other hand, agreed with everything Canada had to say which continuously pissed Switzerland off to the point where Liechtenstein had to restrain him.) The island nation didn't seem to care.) Germany continually asked for reasons on what Canada had to say. The blonde seemed surprised when Canada could actually answer with reasonable evidence despite feeling annoyed at having to defend himself when _it was still not his turn to speak_. (Everyone else was commenting on what Egypt had to say so why was he different?) It eventually occurred to the northern country that he was answering a bit _too_ seriously and he quickly made a joke about Cocoa Cola and Mickey Mouse. (He couldn't remember exactly what was said, but it must have been _awful_ since everyone groaned at the punch-line. Everyone except Japan who murmured an, "Indeed.")

It might, however, be more correct to say that everything _seemed_ normal, except for one thing- nobody was looking at anyone else.

Okay, "nobody" was a bit of an exaggeration, but it seemed to apply to everyone Canada cared for! Despite their bickering, France and England weren't even looking at each other. Things would have usually escalated to a brawl by now and while he was sure the others were relieved to not have to guard themselves from flailing limbs, the child in Canada was growing more and more convinced that all was not well between his parents. Then there was Japan, who would oddly not look at America at all. It made Canada nervous.

This of course meant that the real America was as relaxed as can be. For a short while, his head had bobbed to music before slowly coming to a stop, atop his chest as he began to doze again.

The meeting ended with no declarations of war or disintegration into anarchy. Yet Canada felt almost sad as the last presentation concluded in time for lunch. Grudgingly he could admit that his twin's idea wasn't as harmful as he had thought. Canada had earned some valuable experience and he supposed America had gotten a good nap out of it. No harm, no foul-

"Canada!"

Oh fish cakes.

Cuba came running over from his seat, somehow managing to evade the milling countries. In contrast to the dark looks he had been sending Canada's way, he was grinning brightly and brimming with energy as he rushed to America's side. Brown hands took hold of the back of America's chair, the owner of which blinked awake vaguely. "C'mon Canada!" he cried, so unthinkably loud that both blondees winced. "I have a surprise for you!" Without even awaiting for his perceived friend to respond, he sped off with the chair still in his grasp and a now wide-eyed America hanging on for dear life as he was dragged backwards out the conference room.

"Aaaaah!" was the cry echoed back at them, but so great was the island's speed that no one could do anything more than blink after them. Like the real Canada was currently doing.

Shaking himself, he darted to the door, but he was too late. It was no impossible to tell which direction they had gone. He was in the middle of cursing in varieties of donuts when he felt someone approach. "America," a soft voice called, making Canada jump all the same. He turned and looked down slightly to see Japan. "I need to speak to you- about the other day." This last bit was tacked on suddenly, coming out strangely louder than the rest of his sentence. The Asian country immediately noticed and ducked his chin shyly. His small shoulders hitched slightly as Japan fidgeted with uncharacteristically open agitation.

Good grief, what had America done now?

Canada laughed, more nervously than he cared to. Fate apparently decided to roll a snow ball down his way and if the blondee wasn't careful, he would be dealing with an avalanche before too long! "Oh Japan," he chuckled, holding his hands up defensively. "I was just kidding." It seemed sad that this was the safest answer he could think of.

The smaller nation looked taken back. "Kidding?" he echoed.

Canada wanted to apologize, but he chortled instead. "Of course!" he proclaimed, inwardly feeling very foolish. "What's a joke between friends, eh?" His hands almost came flying up to cover his mouth in horror of letting slip that colloquial noise his brother so loved to tease him for, but managed to restrain himself- barely. Japan didn't comment on it, but an odd look crossed his face. Blue eyes searched for an escape and landed on his sister confronting France and England. Curiosity pumped an impulse too strong to resist. "Pardon me," he murmured, brushing past the smaller country.

His parent countries were becoming increasingly irritated at being confronted by Seychelles. Canada was not yet close enough to hear what was being said, but judging by Seychelles' bearing, it looked more like a lecture than concerned inquires.

(Tact had never been a family trait.)

"Men!" was all the blonde heard as France and England finally pushed past Seychelles. Even as they pointedly ignored all those around them, they took care to walk distinctly apart. Neither words nor glares were exchanged. "Oh boy," Seychelles sighed, tossing back some of her dark hair. "This is bad."

Canada pulled out another hamburger. In-between bites he asked, "What's wrong?"

His sister searched heavenward. "I've no idea," she answered honestly. She looked to Hong Kong, who had been standing by her side like a pale shadow. The Asian gave half-shrug in response. She sighed again. "And they were getting along so well…"

Canada nearly choked. "_Along_?" he repeated, incredulous. Was she even talking about the same two people?

Seychelles nodded. Quite serious, she explained, "I saw them _laughing_ together the other day. And not at someone else's expense either!" A true spectacle! "They've been going out at night and teasing each other…" She trailed off, at a loss for explanation.

Canada frowned behind his hamburger. The cycle was nothing new. Most times France and England co-existed within a thinly tolerant atmosphere, ignoring each other as often as they insulted each other. Every once in awhile, though, things would change. Canada could remember Prussia explaining it once…

"_Those two are like planets. They continually try to get as far as possible from each other. However, sooner or later, they'll be heading back together. If it happened more often, I'd swear it was moonbeams! France will start talking sweetly- like he __**means**__ it! - And England will act particularly vulnerable… Yuck! Well, __**you**__ should be grateful. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right?"_

So perhaps they shouldn't be worried? Canada started munching on another hamburger. Would it have been too much to ask for _normal_ parents?

"You should talk to him, America," Seychelles said suddenly. "He'd like that."

Canada stopped chewing. His mind was blank on who she was talking about. "Talk to who?" he asked.

Seychelles frowned, giving the same look he was used to throwing America's way, "England of course!"

* * *

Prussia was irritated.

In the old days this would mean a Crusade or invasion, but no! _He_ didn't matter anymore did he? Not a country anymore, but he didn't even have the dignity of being struck down in battle like a proper death! Was there any as unfortunate as he?

"Coming through!" he heard someone yell. Prussia looked up from his angst position against the wall in time to see someone sprinting down the hallway at breakneck speed. He had just flattened himself against the wall when Cuba- was it Cuba? - came barreling by dragging a chair and occupant behind him.

"Aaah!" came the echoed cry of the poor victim, but they had gone by too fast for Prussia to recognize who was in the chair.

Dusting himself off, the ex-country scowled after them. Of all the nerve! Had he not had the lightning fast reflexes he did, he would have been squashed underfoot!

Squashed…

Hmm… now _there_ was an idea…

* * *

The green hilltop, the blue sky, the birds chirping- it was an altogether too serene an image for America. It seemed strange to be sitting peacefully on a bench after racing so fast through the halls. What a way to wake up! Did Cuba _always_ do this to Canada? America searched through his memory, but he couldn't remember. His twin brother was like his arm; he was there but America didn't normally take not of him.

Regardless, he was in a grouchy mood now.

He would have _loved_ to go back inside, meet up with Canada, and become his wonderful self again. However, Cuba was kneeling down beside him, excitedly unlocking a box he had pulled out of nowhere. There was no way he could sneak away without suspicion.

Damn, the villain was crafty!

"We've been working too hard," Cuba chatted amiably. He opened the box and lifted out a cooler. "We deserve a treat!" A tanned hand reached back into the box and pulled out a pair of spoons.

America was sufficiently intrigued.

Cuba handed him a spoon, continuing, "I was so proud of myself. I carefully kept track of your chair so I wouldn't mix up you and your brother." Blue eyes darted to the side and America pressed the cool head of the spoon to silence the impish humor he felt at the irony. The other country paid no notice as he opened the cooler. "I brought a little variety, but I know you'll choose your favorite." Then he turned and presented the blonde with four containers of ice cream.

Uh oh.

America lifted a hand, but hesitated. He could not remember what flavor was Canada's favorite. A memory came upon him strangely, unbidden, of leaving a meeting together, he and his twin, shrugging off jackets and ties as they walked over to the drugstore on the corner that sold dollar ice-cream cones; he would laugh as Canada would relate how he had unwittingly spent an entire day staring at Kumajiro. It had been a good memory but now he was frustrated that he couldn't remember what flavor ice cream had melted all over Canada's hand. Well, if he had to be caught, then he might as well enjoy it! Feeling stubborn his hand eagerly snatched up a flavor he particularly liked.

As he did so, Cuba burst out laughing.

"I knew it!" the tanned nation crowed victoriously. He grinned widely at an anxious America. "I knew you would choose that one!" he reached into the cooler and pulled out a container for himself. Peeling off the lid, he dug his spoon into the treat, eagerly enjoying his reward.

America watched him for a moment. Cuba was that happy to have provided Canada something he loved? He pulled off the lid and saw that the sweet had begun to soften under the warm rays of the sun. The spoon easily scooped a mouthful and America let the flavor melt across his tongue.

It was sweet.

* * *

Lithuania heard the voice before he felt the presence. Thus he gave a small jump when he heard, "Pardon me." He turned to look and was surprised to see Japan standing beside him. The Asian gave a slight bow. "I'm sorry to bother you, Lithuania."

"No, not at all!" the brunette assured. He gestured toward the table where he and Poland were currently enjoying their lunch. "Do you want to join us?"

"Thank you but no," Japan declined politely but with a tone that struck Lithuania as odd. Black eyes flickered toward Poland. "I was hoping I could talk to you somewhere privately."

"Sounds like a love confession," Poland chortled. He waved Lithuania away. "Go on, Liet. You can, like, catch me up on all the, like, gossip after. Ya know?"

"Right, right," Lithuania stood and slapped Poland's searching hand away from his unfinished lunch. "I'll be right back." He followed Japan's lead away from the cafeteria area. It was only as they started to head down one of the hallways that Lithuania decided to ask Japan where they were going.

The other country only responded with another question, "Did you notice anything strange about America this morning?"

"Strange?" Lithuania blinked. "No, not really," he answered slowly, thinking back. They had only spoken for such a short time. Still… "A bit tired perhaps?" Usually America was brimming over with vigorous energy, as though he could hardly contain himself, but this morning his presence had seemed diminished somehow.

Japan shook his head. "Something is wrong," he insisted softly. "That is _not_ the same America we know."

Lithuania could hardly believe what he was hearing. "An imposter?" he breathed, incredulous. "But how?"

Japan ushered him into a vacant room. The door was locked before Japan continued, "I have observed him and pondered this and only have on conclusion I can come to." He was so serious that it sobered Lithuania quite a bit. "I do not think it was America at all. Instead, the person we saw was," the island nation hesitated before concluding. Green eyes widened and Lithuania repeated it in shock.

"_An alien?"_

- End

* * *

[Extras]

**Reminder:** The relationships between characters can be different than the relationships between countries. I'm really trying to not make this too political.

**Germany & Canada: **On a side-note, I once read in an article that Germans tend to view Americans the same way as Canadians do. As an American, I am both amused by this and slightly worried.

_

* * *

For all my reviewers,_

_Happy Earth Day!_


	6. Chapter 6: Pawns Start to Think

Disclaimer: Still do not own Hetalia or anything associated with it. Except this plot, for what it is worth.

A/N: Holy cow, this has taken so long... Sorry, sorry, sorry! I really hadn't expected this to get so popular so I had just started writing without plotting all the way through. Last chapter was as far as I had planned for so I suddenly had a "Uh, what now?" conundrum. Apologies for the ridiculously long wait but life happens. Even though I do _not_ hold stories ransom for reviews, I would like to thank everyone that did leave a review during the long hiatus; every time I saw one it reminded me that someone cared about reading more so that added a lot of motivation. I can't promise updates will be any faster (though I do hope for a lot more than once a year) but I'm not giving up on this story in any foreseeable future.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_**: The Pieces Start to Think for Themselves**

_ Preparing for what was about to happen, the moment he tried to take a deep breath, Wataru was overtaken by Yuichi's lips. Falling under his sweet breath, the slight fever emanated from their mingled mouths and began to spread through Wataru's body._

_ Shifting the angle of his head and alternating between soft and deep kisses, Wataru found himself tightly embraced by Yuichi. Something about the way that his arms wrapped around his back, warming him like the sun, brought back memories._

_ Their warm tongues entwined-_

Just as Hungary sighed softly in deep contentment, her whole body suddenly stiffened. Green eyes flashed up angrily from their perusal of poetic boy love, narrowing with acute irritation. Certain instincts were tingling... The sudden tense atmosphere made her two companions look up from their reading material.

"Is something wrong, Elizabeta?" Taiwan asked with some concern.

Belgium lifted her elbows off the pretty café table the three had been sharing and sat back in her seat. "I thought you liked that series, cutsie as it is," she commented. Her finger kept her place in a volume of _Gravitation_. "Don't like the pairing anymore or something?"

Hungary shook her head, "No, no, no. It's... Hmm, how do I say this?" She shifted in her seat to look back at the World Conference Center. "Gilbert is up to something..."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a dark room where the ink black shadows were barely held at bay by three flickering candles on a round circular table, four countries were having their own private conference.

Germany reluctantly admitted, "It does make some sense. I do admit that things felt a tad odd today, though I wasn't sure how."

"I noticed nothing odd at all," Italy piped in, although no one had asked him. His characteristic smile was spread widely across his face as though they were discussing something delightful. As usual this blatant happiness was in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere of the room.

"An alien on the other hand..." Germany continued as if his brunette shadow hadn't spoken, a nerve in his forehead twitching as if he were allergic to the very stupidity of what they were discussing. "That's... Um..." He was looking for the nicest way to put this. "It's a bit far-fetched."

"Hm," Japan merely nodded, looking the most serious out of all of them. "Thank you very much for your input, Germany. It is good to have reasonable doubt." Of course, just from the look on his face it was impossible to tell whether he actually agreed with the blonde or not.

Germany sighed, suddenly very tired.

"Um," Lithuania gently prodded Japan's shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Is it a good idea to tell them? I mean, we don't really know for sure..."

Italy, never one to let silence lull, took this chance to contribute some conversation. "My brother told me about this one summer," he started, settling in for a long story, "in Sicily, where things kept catching on fire! It was such a horrible problem!"

"I am sure on this," Japan insisted with a stubbornness he rarely displayed. "I have seen many of America's documentaries on aliens and this scenario matches with one I have seen many times. We must stop it before it goes too far."

"Fire is a common problem to have in the summer, isn't it?" Germany asked, wearily humoring Italy.

Lithuania tried a different solution, "He could just be having an off day. Everyone has an off day. That doesn't mean he's an alien." Part of him felt like shouting as to why they were even seriously considering an alien theory _first_, but he kept that to himself. Plus, the worry-wort part of him was becoming increasingly nervous for America's safety.

"Not when things are catching on fire that _shouldn't_ catch on fire all by themselves!" Italy shouted, becoming distressed as he continued to remember the story. "Like a chair! Or a water-pipe! Or a guy's pants!"

Something in Japan's expression seemed to flicker, almost like a frown, as if he wanted to disagree but couldn't quite find a way how to yet. "We shouldn't take any chances," he said at last. "If we find proof, he's an alien imposter, then we can involve others. If not and he's not an alien, then..." He cut himself off and whatever conclusion went with that sentence remained an unspoken, unpleasant thought.

Germany did not make a reply. His expression was dazed, once again not able to comprehend the situation he was in or how he got in it.

"Luckily it was only for that one summer," Italy continued, calming down. The quick cycle of these emotions left little wonder as to how Germany so often was worn down by the other. "The priests came and blessed the appliances and the fires went away. At first we thought that it was the railway line, but it turned out not to be. I wonder what caused it all. Don't you, Germany?"

Lithuania sighed again and leaned back. "Then why tell Germany and Italy?" he wondered aloud. What he wondered inwardly was: why get him involved? Why sit together in a private room? Why were the lights off except for a flickering candle on one table? Was the atmosphere supposed to be creepy? What was the point? And _how did he get into any of this?_

"What was the purpose of that story, Italy?" Germany sighed. "What even made you think of it?"

Japan shook his head to clear it. "We need the help," he explained. "And Germany is really quite good at coming up at plans." Executing them was another matter- but he didn't really think that was Germany's fault exactly.

"Because it's so _mysterious_!" Italy chirped. "Just like this is! With aliens and everything. It's all very mysterious." He grinned mischievously, amused like usual with himself.

Lithuania admitted that made some sense and of course Japan would think of Germany for this. Germany might be the most reliable one here. "Yet you came to me first," he noted aloud, curious. "Why is that?" He and Japan didn't usually interact.

Once again Germany didn't really have anything to say; he just rubbed at his temples.

Japan turned to him- Lithuania- and gave him a curious look, as though it were quite obvious. "You're a good friend of America's," he answered. "He speaks of you often. I thought that put you in a position to be of some help."

"He speaks of me?" Lithuania repeated with a grin, feeling very flattered. Oh how nostalgic to think of his time spent working for America! It had been some of the happiest days of his life. Though why did people always seem surprised that the two of them could genuinely be friends? It was baffling.

"Yes..." Japan admitted reluctantly and this time his expression was once again shuttered against any interpretation. However there was a frown on his face again that hinted that something once more displeased him.

Just then the door burst open, framing Prussia in a halo of light streaming from the hallway. "Greetings!" he declared with a wide grin. Three skateboards from somewhere were tucked under his arm. "Is there any duct tape or rope in this room? For no particular reason..."

A feeling of dread sunk in Germany's stomach. "Why?" he asked hesitantly, not knowing if he _wanted_ to know the answer.

"I just said 'for no reason'," the older Germanic brother explained absently. "What's with the lights?" He leaned over and flipped the switch a few times only for it to do nothing.

"They don't work right now," Japan spoke up in a tone that implied he wanted the other to leave which of course sounded perfectly polite and neutral.

"I think the janitor's hall might have some rope," Lithuania sheepishly brought up. "I don't know about duct tape-"

"Right-o!" Prussia straightened and shouted just as he slammed closed the door. "Off I go! Hahahahaha!"

"Going back to the subject at hand," Germany turned back around, massaging the nerves that were threatening to throb in his forehead, "I believe that we must proceed cautiously. We could perhaps agree that something _odd_ is going on. However, when it comes to determining if America is being impersonated by an alien-"

"Oh, I know!" Italy cried with sudden enthusiasm, raising his hand high up into the air. "I know a good way to go about that. We can just _ask_ America-"

"Our methods should be of a _subtle_ nature," Germany tried to continue as if not interrupted, but a certain emphasis to his words gave away that he had heard Italy. "Something that will not draw too much attention. If he is an- um, imposter, then it would be best to not let him know we are on to him. If he is truly America, then we would just look silly." The blonde nation sighed here, giving away which prospect he found the most likely.

"If only Tony were here," Lithuania frowned. "But he's still off on his vacation in Bermuda." The alien might only be able to throw some light on the situation because of his friendship with America, but also because as a being from outer space, he might have some knowledge of other extraterrestrials? Then again it might be a bit racist to think that way.

"Does he have a birthmark of some kind?" Germany asked, already coming up with a plan. "Something that would be difficult for someone to try and replicate? They might not think to hide something that is not usually seen by others."

"Oh! Oh!" Italy's hand shot up in the air. "A tattoo of Ronald McDonald on his ass!"

The other occupants of the table blinked in confusion.

"Does he _have_ a tattoo like that?" Germany inquired reluctantly.

"Oh, I don't know," shrugged Italy carelessly, still grinning. "But wouldn't it be funny if he did?"

Germany's face met the gloved palm of his right hand as he sighed yet again.

"I don't know about a birthmark.." Lithuania said slowly, after he took a few moments to think it over. "But would a scar work?"

For the first time Germany looked hopeful, "What kind of scar?"

"On his chest. Right here," Lithuania traced down a line over his heart. "It's a bit faint but if you look closely, it's there." He had discovered it by accident while accompanying America on his many beach trips during those good ol' days. America had gotten his head stuck in the belly of a Great White Shark- that was a long story- and while administering First-Aid, Lithuania had noticed its faint pinkness. "I don't know what it's from though." He had tried to ask about it- countries don't scary very easily- but had only received an indecipherable answer. Then again that was mostly because America's head was surrounded by shark and it was a bit difficult to understand anything he was trying to say. Lithuania had forgotten all about that scar until now.

"How do you know about that?" asked Japan, his tone oddly sharp. He seemed to look at the brunette with new suspicion.

Before the Baltic nation could explain, however, the door was once more flung open. The four nations inside the room cringed at the sudden flood of light. This time the silhouette in the doorway was much smaller. "Do you guys have any duct tape or rope?" chirped Sealand, His arms were trying to maintain a hold around a dozen cans of spray paint of different colors.

Before anyone could answer, Prussia's voice came shouting down the hall, "I ALREADY ASKED THEM!"

"Oh, ok! Sorry!" he grinned at the room's occupants and then slammed the door shut.

They could still faintly hear Prussia yell, "DID YOU FIND THAT BOTTLE OF SUPER GLUE?" and Sealand's faint reply of, "YEAH, A GINORMOUS BOTTLE OF IT!" as he ran down the hall.

Germany's gloved fingers rubbed at his temples and he took a deep breath and mumbled something like, "I don't want to know, I don't want to know…" Italy patted him sympathetically on the back.

"So…" Lithuania started, breaking the silence after a few moments. "Would that scar help?"

"I think it might," was Germany's answer as he regained his usual prepared-for-anything attitude. "It's a start at least. If this America doesn't have it, then that would be a big clue. Our scars don't just disappear. Now we just need a way to check…"

"So we need a way to make him take off his clothes?" Lithuania asked, skeptical. This wasn't France they were dealing with; no one was going to strip down just because they ask.

"We only need him to take his shirt off," Japan corrected, again soundly oddly short. He ignored the confused look the brunette threw his way. "I mean, he doesn't have to get completely bare. Let's have some decency please."

…If Lithuania didn't know better, he could have sworn that Japan was blushing? Oh, but the island country was naturally so modest, that could be why. Neither of the European nations seemed to notice anything strange.

"Oh! Oh!" Up went Italy's hand in the air, just like a proper schoolboy. "Romano and I love to take our clothes off when it's hot! So if we make it really, really hot in here, we can get America to take his shirt off! Then we can check to see if he has that tattoo!"

"Scar," corrected Japan.

"Right!" chirped Italy, undeterred.

"Actually," Germany said slowly, almost incredulous, "That's not a bad idea…"

* * *

_It had been a long day of boring conferences and even though neither of them had done much in particular in those sessions, both America and Canada had retired to their shared hotel room- an economic move that had all the countries bunking up- feeling utterly drained. Both had begun to prepare for bed- Kumajiro was already snoring away atop Canada's bed and America's was littered with all his unpacked luggage-when America began to complain._

_ "I can't believe this," he whined, flopping atop the bed- or more accurately his many pieces of clothing. "It's not even that late!"_

_ "Early to bed, early to rise," Canada murmured, smoothing back the sheets._

_ "There's only _one_ TV," sighed America, looking at the electronic device with dismay. "How are we supposed to live?"_

_ "Well," Canada tried to suggest something but he was of course cut-off._

_ "Here," America tossed the remote over to him- no, at him for it ended up bonking him on the head. "Go ahead and choose something to watch. I'm going to order room service. Do you want anything?" The hotel phone was already up against the younger brother's ear. "Pancakes or something right?"_

_ As pancakes smothered in maple syrup did sound good- power of suggestion probably though it was a shame the hotel probably wouldn't have the authentic maple syrup- Canada said nothing and turned on the TV. He was too tired to read himself to sleep and there were worse things than relaxing to a TV program. Also, he _never_ got to choose what to watch when they were together! It was highly tempting to try and find something in French, but he got lost in the struggle to find just something entertaining. At last he settled on a show that had just started and seemed fairly interesting._

_ After ordering a bit of everything from room service, America wiggled on his bed simultaneously finding a comfortable lounging position as well as pushing off the mess from the covers. "What did you find?" he asked with a yawn- which was quickly cut off as he choked. The giant letters spelling out the title of "_World's Scariest Haunted Places"_ on the screen caused him to momentarily forget how to breathe. "B-but, b-b-but-" His fingers clutched at the blanket as he paled._

_ "This is what I wanted to watch," Canada explained in a tone that was deceivingly simple but also implied if-you-make-me-change-this-then-you-are-a-jerk somehow as well. _

_ "Um, right… Yeah, ok. No problem," America coughed and tried to look casual. He was going to be a nice little brother and let Canada watch what he had picked out! Because he was awesome like that!_

_ The next two hours were some of the longest that America had ever known. The narrator introduce site after site infamous for disturbing ghostly phenomenon. Of course, it also had to be explained _why_ these ghosts were so angry with everyone- because being dead wasn't a downer enough- and the show delved into blood-chilling histories of murderers with axes or chainsaws- or in one creative place, a spear- and suicides and dead children and people locked in closets, haunting the mortal realm forevermore. Sometimes their antics were caught in video or in pictures, with the narrator helpfully highlight where the ghostly presence was. It was apparently a special showing as there were no commercials and that made the viewing seem even longer._

_ The knock on the door for room service made America scream and he hurried the food inside as quick as possible, practically throwing the pancakes at his brother. It occurred to him several times- as he was munching down on steak and pizza and calamari- that he _could_ ask Canada to change the channel- but no! He was not going to wimp out on his brother! Not after seeing how much this show meant to him! A hero was not afraid of any ghosts! _

_ And so two commercial-free hours passed very, very slowly…_

_ As the credits rolled, America was trembling so fiercely he was shaking. He tried to laugh but it came out very breathless. "Th-that wasn't t-t-too scary for y-you, was it?" he stuttered. "Hope y-you can f-fall asleep tonight, bro! … Bro? Canada!" Looking over at the other bed, he was stunned to see the other already fast asleep, snoring cozily, with the pancakes still untouched upon the bed. "When did you fall asleep?"_

_ The next morning a very refreshed Canada was befuddled as to why his bleary-eyed twin was so upset with him…_

Cuba burst out laughing. He had been snickering and chuckling throughout the telling but upon the story's finish, he couldn't contain himself anymore. Head tilted back and arms hugging his sides, all the raucous laughter came pouring out. His profuse amusement made it hard for America to keep scowling. He had told the story from Canada's point of view- trying to hint strongly that "he" had planned the entire occurrence and how mean "he" was- but apparently this had made it only more entertaining to Cuba.

"That's a good story!" chortled Cuba when he could speak again. He smacked "Canada" on the back companionably. "I didn't know the Capitalist was so afraid of ghosts! It's too funny!"

Instead of protesting that he wasn't afraid, just unnerved- like he wanted to- America instead took a big bit of ice cream, emptying his second large container. It was a good think he and his twin shared a large appetite for the stuff. So far it seemed as if he hadn't blow their cover, but should he eat another donut just in case? He was quite liking the maple-bacon flavored ones.

"Now, me?" said Cuba, jabbing a thumb toward his chest. "Man, ghosts don't scare me at all." Then, after a pause, "Monsters though… Man, those are another story."

America nodded in understanding. Monsters weren't as bad as ghosts- because you could kill a monster with enough guns or explosives- but he didn't care much for them either. "Those stone angels were the worst," he muttered. "Majorly creepy." He had only just started to see the appeal of England's beloved show "_Doctor Who"_, but he had nearly stopped watching the show altogether after that episode and had avoided New York for awhile when the monsters had made a reappearance. He hadn't had any stone angels on his property, but destroying some garden gnomes had helped make him feel better.

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Cuba rose to his feet and said, "Unfortunately I should get going. It might have been a short conference today, but there's lots of stuff to get ready. I wish I had it as easy as you."

"There are some perks to being me," America smiled at his own inside-joke.

"Yeah, like having a friend like me!" grinned Cuba as he picked up his cooler. "I'll see you later, Matthew! Let's go ice skating sometime!"

"Or bobsledding!" America called after him. "Like in that movie!" Cuba just laughed, shook his head, and waved as he left. It took a moment for the blonde to realize: 1) No, wait, that had been Jamica he was thinking of with the unexpected bobsled team in the Olympics and 2) He had just had friendly banter with _Cuba_ and it had felt _natural._

Well…

He better find Canada fast so they could switch back. This Candian-ness seemed infectious.

Yeah, he'll go find him after he finishes this donut.

_- End_

* * *

[Extras]

**Hungary's BoyxLove Novel:** The beginning sections of this fic were taken directly from the first novel of "Only the Ring Finger Knows" by Satoru Kannagi. I like the series but I can totally admit that it's a giant pile of smoop.

**Belgium's BoyxLove Novel:** This is a manga series called "Gravitation" by Maki Murakami which was basically my "Twilight" stage. It's not the most healthy of relationships and most of it was incredibly random. Is it still popular these days?

**Spontaneous Combustion in Italy:** This actually happened- as far as a TV program and a few online articles can tell me. I couldn't find the exact city this occurred in but I think it was somewhere in Sicily. The strangest things would just suddenly catch on fire one summer, and they never discovered what caused it. They also really did have the priests come and bless the household appliances. I'm sure that helped...

**America's story: **Also based on a true story although a more personal one. I'm terrified of ghost stories- you know that episode with America and Japan watching a ghost program? Yeah, America has my reaction down precisely- but my brother isn't. I was trying to be a nice sister and let him choose what to watch and he fell asleep on me! (This happened like five years ago and I still haven't forgiven him for it. Haha!)

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to_

_**EVERY SINGLE REVIEWER**_

_that was kind enough to leave this story a review while it was on hiatus._


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